'We'll start with this. You should not have returned to your office this afternoon. Two law enforcement officers were just murdered, one of them there while you were in the building.'
'I had no choice but to return to my office, Colonel Tucker. Just who do you think did those officers' autopsies?'
He was silent. Then he asked, 'Do you think Gault has left town?'
'No.'
'Why?'
'I don't know why, but I don't think he has.'
'How are you feeling?'
I could tell he was fishing for something, but I could not imagine what.
'I'm feeling fine. In fact, as soon as you leave, I'm going to get dressed and then I'm going to leave,' I replied.
He started to speak but didn't.
I watched him for a moment. He was dressed in dark blue FBI National Academy sweats and high-top leather cross-training shoes. I wondered if he had been working out in the gym when someone had called him about me. It suddenly struck me that we were neighbors. He and his wife lived in Windsor Farms just a few blocks from me.
'Marino's told me to evacuate my house,' I said in an almost accusatory tone. 'Are you aware of that?'
'I'm aware.'
'How much of a hand have you had in his suggestion to me?'
'Why would you think I've had anything to do with what Marino suggests to you?' he asked calmly.
'You and I are neighbors. You probably drive past my house every day.'
'I don't. But I know where you live, Kay.'
'Please don't call me Kay.'
'If I were white would you let me call you Kay?' he said with ease.
'No, I would not.'
He did not seem offended. He knew I did not trust him. He knew I was slightly afraid of him and probably of most people right now. I was getting paranoid.
'Dr. Scarpetta.' He got up. 'I've had your house under surveillance for weeks.' He paused, looking down at me.
'Why?' I asked.
'Sheriff Brown.'
'What are you talking about?' My mouth was getting dry.
'He was very involved in an intricate drug network that stretches from New York to Miami. Some of your patients were involved in it. At least eight that we know of at this time.'
'Drug shootings.'
He nodded, staring toward the window. 'Brown hated you.'
'That was clear. The reason was not.'
'Let's just say that you did your job too well. Several of his comrades were locked up for a very long time because of you.' He paused. 'We had reason to fear he planned to have you taken care of.'
I stared at him, stunned. 'What? What reason?'
'Snitches.'
'More than one?'
Tucker said, 'Brown had already offered money to somebody we had-to take very seriously.'
I reached for my water glass.
'This was earlier in the month. Maybe three weeks ago.' His eyes wandered around the room.
'Who did he hire?' I asked.
'Anthony Jones.' Tucker looked at me.
My astonishment grew and I was shocked by what he told me next.
'The person who was supposed to get shot Christmas Eve was not Anthony Jones but you.'
I was speechless.
'That entire scenario of going to the wrong apartment in Whitcomb Court was for the purpose of taking you out. But when the sheriff went through the kitchen and into the backyard, he and Jones got into an argument. You know what happened.'
He got up. 'Now the sheriff is dead too and, frankly, you're lucky.'
'Colonel Tucker,' I said.
He stood by my bed.
'Did you know about this before it happened?'
'Are you asking me if I'm clairvoyant?' His face was grim.
'I think you know what I'm asking.'
'We had our eye on you. But no, we did not know until after the fact that Christmas Eve was when you were supposed to be killed. Obviously, had we known, you never would have been out riding around, delivering blankets.'
He looked down at the floor, thinking, before he spoke again. 'You're sure you're ready to check out of here?'
'Yes.'
'Where do you plan to go tonight?'
'Home.'
He shook his head. 'Out of the question. Nor do I recommend a local hotel.'
'Marino has agreed to stay with me.'
'Oh, now I bet that's safe,' he said wryly as he opened the door. 'Get dressed, Dr. Scarpetta. We have a meeting to attend.'
When I emerged from my hospital room not much later, I was met by stares and few words. Lucy and Janet were with Marino, and Paul Tucker was alone, a Gortex jacket on.
'Dr. Scarpetta, you ride with me.' He nodded at Marino. 'You follow with the young ladies.'
We walked along a polished white hallway toward elevators and headed down. Uniformed officers were everywhere, and when glass doors slid open outside the emergency room, three of them appeared to escort us to our cars. Marino and the chief had parked in police slots, and when I saw Tucker's personal car, I felt another spasm in my chest. He drove a black Porsche 911. It was not new, but it was in excellent condition.
Marino saw the car, too. He remained silent as he unlocked his Crown Victoria.
'Were you on 95 South last night?' I asked Tucker as soon as we were inside his car.
He pulled his shoulder harness across his chest and started the engine. 'Why would you ask me that?' He did not sound defensive, only curious.
'I was coming home from Quantico and a car similar to this one was tailgating us.'
'Who is us?'
'I was with Marino.'
'I see.' He turned right outside the parking deck, toward headquarters. 'So you were with the Grand Dragon.'
'Then it was you,' I said as wipers pushed away snow.
Streets were slick and I felt the car slip as Tucker slowed at a traffic light.
'I did see a Confederate flag bumper sticker last night,' he said. 'And I did express my lack of appreciation for it.'
'The truck it was on is Marino's.'
'I did not care whose truck it was.'
I looked over at him.
'Serves the captain right.' He laughed.
'Do you always act so aggressively?' I asked. 'Because it's a good way to get shot.'
'One is always welcome to try.'
'I don't recommend tailgating and taunting rednecks.'
'At least you admit he is a redneck.'
'I meant the comment in general,' I said.
'You are an intelligent, refined woman, Dr. Scarpetta. I fail to understand what you see in him.'
'There is a lot to see in him if one takes the trouble to look.'
'He is racist. He is homophobic and chauvinistic. He's one of the most ignorant human beings I've ever met, and I wish he were some other person's problem.'
'He doesn't trust anything or anyone,' I said. 'He's cynical, and not without reason, I'm sure.'
Tucker was quiet.
'You don't know him,' I added.
'I don't want to know him. What I'd like is for him to disappear.'
'Please don't do anything that wrong,' I said with feeling. 'You would be making such a mistake.'
'He is a political nightmare,' the chief said. 'He should never have been placed in charge of First Precinct.'
'Then transfer him back to the detective division, to A Squad. That's really where he belongs.'
Tucker quietly drove. He did not wish to discuss Marino anymore.
'Why was I never told someone wanted to kill me?' I asked, and the words sounded weird, and I really could not accept their meaning. 'I want to know why you did not tell me I was under surveillance.'
'I did what I thought was best.'
'You should have told me.'
He looked in his rearview mirror to make sure Marino was still behind us as he drove around the back of Richmond police department headquarters.
'I believed telling you what snitches had divulged would only place you in
more danger. I was afraid you might become . . .' He paused. 'Well, aggressive, anxious. I did not want your demeanor substantially changing. I did not want you going on the offense and perhaps escalating the situation.'
'I do not think you had a right to be so secretive,' I said with feeling.
'Dr. Scarpetta.' He stared straight ahead. 'I honestly did not care what you thought and still don't. I only care about saving your life.'
At the police entrance to the parking lot, two officers with pump shotguns stood guard, their uniforms black against snow. Tucker stopped and rolled his window down.
'How's it going?' he asked.
A sergeant was stern, shotgun pointing at the planets. 'It's quiet, sir.'
'Well, you guys be careful.'
'Yes, sir. We will.'
Tucker shut his window and drove on. He parked in a space to the left of double glass doors that led into the lobby and lockup of the large concrete complex he commanded. I noticed few cruisers or unmarked cars in the lot. I supposed there were accidents to be worked this slippery night, and everyone else was out looking for Gault. To law enforcement, he had earned a new rank. He was a cop killer now.
'You and Sheriff Brown have similar cars,' I said, unfastening my seat belt.
'And there the similarity ends,' Tucker said, getting out.
His office was along a dreary hallway, several doors from A Squad, where the homicide detectives lived. The chief's quarters were surprisingly simple, furniture sturdy but utilitarian. He had no nice lamps or rugs, and walls were absent the expected photographs of himself with politicians or celebrities. I saw no certificates or diplomas that might tell where he had gone to school or what commendations he had won.
Tucker looked at his watch and showed us into a small adjoining conference room. Windowless, and carpeted in deep blue, it was furnished with a round table and eight chairs, a television and a VCR.
'What about Lucy and Janet?' I asked, expecting the chief to exclude them from the discussion.
'I already know about them,' he said, getting comfortable in a swivel chair as if he were about to watch the Super Bowl. 'They're agents.'
'I'm not an agent,' Lucy respectfully corrected him.
He looked at her. 'You wrote CAIN.'
'Not entirely.'
'Well, CAIN's a factor in all this, so you may as well stay.'
'Your department's on-line.' She held his gaze. 'In fact, yours was the first to be on-line.'
We turned as the door opened and Benton Wesley walked in. He was wearing corduroys and a sweater. He had the raw look of one too exhausted to sleep.
'Benton, I trust you know everyone,' Tucker said as if he knew Wesley quite well.
'Right.' Wesley was all business as he took a chair. 'I'm late because you're doing a good job.'
Tucker seemed perplexed.
'I got stopped at two checkpoints,'
'Ah.' The chief seemed pleased. 'We have everybody out. We're lucky as hell with the weather,'
He wasn't joking.
Marino explained to Lucy and Janet, 'The snow keeps most people home. The fewer people out, the easier for us.'
'Unless Gault's not out, either,' Lucy said.
'He's got to be somewhere,' Marino said. 'The toad don't exactly have a vacation home here,'
'We don't know what he has,' Wesley said. 'He could know someone in the area,'
'Where do you predict he might have gone after leaving the morgue this morning?' Tucker asked Wesley.
'I don't think he's left the area,'
'Why?' Tucker asked.
Wesley looked at me. 'I think he wants to be where we are.'
'What about his family?' Tucker then asked.
'They are near Beaufort, South Carolina, where they recently bought a sizable pecan plantation on an island. I don't think Gault will go there.'
'I don't think we can assume anything,' Tucker said.
'He's estranged from his family.'
'Not entirely. He's getting money from somewhere.'
'Yes,' Wesley said. 'They may give him money so he will stay away. They are in a dilemma. If they don't help him, he may come home. If they help him, he stays out there killing people.'
'They sound like fine upstanding citizens,' Tucker said sardonically.
'They won't help us,' Wesley said. 'We've tried. What else are you doing here in Richmond?'
Tucker answered, 'Everything we can. This asshole's killing cops.'
'I don't think cops are his primary target,' Wesley stated matter-of-factly. 'I don't think he cares about cops,'
'Well,' Tucker said hotly, 'he fired the first shot and we'll fire the next.'
Wesley just looked at him.
'We've got two-person patrol cars,' Tucker went on. 'We've got guards in the parking lot, primarily for shift change. Every car's got a photo of Gault, and we've been handing them out to local businesses -those we can find open.'
'What about surveillance?'
'Yes. Places he might be. They're being watched.' He looked at me. 'Including your house and mine. And the medical examiner's office.' He turned back to Wesley. 'If there are other places he might be, I wish you'd tell me.'
Wesley said, 'There can't be many. He has a nasty little habit of murdering his friends.' He stared off. 'What about State Police helicopters and fixed-wing aircraft?'
'When the snow stops,' Tucker said. 'Absolutely.'
'I don't understand how he can sneak around so easily,' said Janet, who most likely would spend the rest of her working life asking questions like that. 'He doesn't look normal. Why don't people notice him?'
'He's extremely cunning,' I said to her.
Tucker turned to Marino. 'You have the tape.'
'Yes, sir, but I'm not sure . . .' He stopped.
'You're not sure of what, Captain?' Tucker lifted his chin a little.
'I'm not sure they should see it.' He looked at Janet and Lucy.
'Please proceed, Captain,' the chief said curtly.
Marino inserted the tape into the VCR and cut the lights.
'It's about half an hour long,' his voice sounded as numbers and lines went by on the television screen. 'Anybody mind if I smoke?'
'I definitely mind,' Tucker said. 'Apparently, this was what we found in the video camera inside Sheriff Brown's house. I have not seen it yet.'
The tape started.
'Okay, what we got here is Lament Brown's upstairs bedroom,' Marino began to narrate.
The bed I had looked at earlier today was neatly made, and in the background we could hear the sound of someone moving.
'I think this was when he was making sure his camera was working,' Marino said. 'Maybe it's when the white residue got on the wall. See. Now it's jumping ahead.'
He hit the pause button and we stared at a blurred image of the empty bedroom.
'Do we know if Brown was positive for cocaine?' the chief asked in the dark.
'It's too early to know if he had cocaine or it's metabolite, benzoyleconine, on board,' I said. 'All we have right now is his alcohol level.'
Marino resumed, 'It's like he turned the camera on and then off and then back on. You can tell because the time's different. First it was ten-oh-six last night. Now it's suddenly ten-twenty.'
'Clearly, he was expecting somebody,' Tucker spoke.
'Or else they was already there. Maybe doing a few lines of coke downstairs. Here we go.' Marino hit the play button. 'This is where the good stuff starts.'
The darkness in Tucker's conference room was absolutely silent save for the creaking of a bed and groaning that sounded more like pain than passion. Sheriff Brown was nude and on his back. From the rear we watched Temple Gault, wearing surgical gloves and nothing else. Dark clothes were laid out on the bed nearby. Marino got quiet. I could see the profiles of Lucy and Janet. Their faces were without expression, and Tucker seemed very calm. Wesley was beside me, coolly analyzing.
From Potter's Field Page 22